


Extracurricular Activities

by divine_twig



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divine_twig/pseuds/divine_twig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On or off campus, Jaime Lannister can't seem to avoid running into Brienne Tarth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extracurricular Activities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrienneofThrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrienneofThrace/gifts).



> I wrote this a while back for a good friend. (I think it was originally supposed to be a drabble, but I'm categorically incapable of keeping these things brief.) After re-discovering it tonight, I thought some of you might enjoy reading it as well. I like the characters a lot, and their dynamic is a lot of fun -- I was really surprised how easy it was to write, especially the dialogue. I really enjoyed writing from Jaime's perspective. He has a lot of issues -- sexism, alcohol abuse, a terrible home life, and so on -- but that was interesting to think about.

Jaime sighed and kicked up his feet. Bright green Nikes, loosely laced, scuffed at the toes and muddy at the heels, came to rest on the seat in front of him. Art history. Why would anyone choose to be here? If attendance weren't part of the final grade, he'd be at the bar with his friends. Five dollar pitchers. Maybe when this bullshit class was over. He checked his phone. Twenty minutes left. Jaime tilted his head back with another sigh, but sat up straight again when he felt his hat start to slide off. Dr. Walker sure had a knack for making art incredibly boring. There were about thirty other people scattered throughout the lecture hall, most of them staring vacantly out the window. No one wanted to be here.

Except that chick at the front. Jaime had seen her on campus a lot -- she was hard to miss, frankly -- but they hadn't crossed paths before. She was probably six-five, broad and bulky, a total troll. Seriously, what business did a girl have being that tall and jacked? He'd seen her arms close up before. Mind blowing. Did she work out? Did she enjoy being insanely huge and masculine? Maybe she did it to make up for her looks, because man, someone upstairs must've been in a cruel mood when they put that face together.

Whatever. He drummed his pen rapidly against his leg and squinted at the powerpoint. The Venus of Willendorf. The girl at the front, She-Hulk, was scribbling furiously in her notebook, barely pausing to look at the slide. Did she feel some kind of affinity for the distorted little clay figure?

Ten minutes left. God, an entire semester of this -- could there be any torture more perfectly refined?

"Excuse me, professor? Could you go back to the last slide, just for a second?" Heads whipped to attention when She-Hulk spoke up. She had a nice enough voice, kind of low for a girl, but not too bad.

"Er...certainly, certainly," said Dr. Walker after a moment. Jaime wondered if anyone had ever shown that much interest in the material before.

 

 

\---

 

Finnegan's was mostly empty when Jaime got there, but Pete and Tyler were sitting at the bar. Four o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. The crisp, clear, early September sky was unfurled overhead like a banner; the world seemed to be tinged gold and green. It was a day for being outside. Jaime tossed his art history notebook -- filled mostly with doodles and sketches -- onto the bar and slid onto a stool. "Pitcher of Coors," he said.

"Sure thing," said the bartender. He knew Jaime by name at this point. No need for ID.

He'd been there about an hour when she showed up. He had drunk enough to feel mellow and relaxed. Peter knew about a good party tomorrow night. Tyler was cracking jokes about classmates and professors. The door squeaked open and thudded shut, but Jaime didn't look to see who it was. It didn't matter.

He did notice when she sat down at the bar, though. She took a stool at the far end. She-Hulk. Peter laughed quietly and kicked Jaime, jerking his head in the girl's direction. Tyler grinned into his mug. Jaime just shook his head and drained the rest of his beer. What was up with this girl? Didn't seem like this was her kind of scene. Granted, Finnegan's was usually way busier, but it was still early. In Jaime's experience, girls came to bars with their friends, and they only came to party and to hook up with dudes. She-Hulk seemed more like coffee shop type -- dark jeans, Zeppelin t-shirt, blue cardigan. While he was thinking, she ordered a cider and pulled a binder out of her bag. Must be a study session. Super productive to try and study at a bar. She must be retarded as well as ugly.

"Hey, uh, Brienne," said Pete.

She didn't look up. "What do you want, Pete?"

"I was just wondering if you're free tomorrow night. There's this party at my buddy's house. You should totally come, it'll be awesome."

"I don't think so." She turned a page in her binder and took a long drink of her cider. Jaime couldn't help noticing the flex of muscle in her arm when she set the glass down. How much time did she spend in the weight room? Damn, what a freak. He poured the last of the Coors into his mug and drank. His sister was a normal girl -- diabolically clever and ambitious, but otherwise normal. Girls were supposed to like fashion, music, parties, and tiny little dogs. Jaime liked normal girls. Long hair, slender arms, perfect smiles.

Meanwhile, Pete was still trying to draw Brienne out, saying, "Come on, girl, it'll be killer. I really want to see you there."

"Yeah, whatever," the girl said dismissively, and Pete turned back to Jaime and Tyler with a shrug. Clearly she wasn't rising to his bait.

"I'm gonna split." Jaime drained his beer and picked up his art history notebook.

"Later, bro."

"Take it easy."

Jaime gave Tyler a high five and punched Pete's shoulder. "See you in class, Brienne," he called over his shoulder as he left.

He was barely a block away when she caught up to him. "You're in my art history class, aren't you?"

Up close, she was spectacularly ugly. Like, even worse than he'd thought. Wide mouth, weird teeth, big nose. Holy shit. She did have nice eyes, though. Bluer than the sky. "Uh, yeah. Dr. Walker. Venus of Willendorf. It's my favorite."

She must have missed the sarcasm, because her eyes lit up and she said, "Me too! I heard Walker was really boring, but he seems okay so far."

Seriously? Jaime laughed and shook his head. "I was joking. I hate that class. If it wasn't a requirement for graduation, I'd drop it like a hot brick. Do you just not sense when people are joking? Because back there, Pete was jerking your chain, but he didn't mean anything by it."

That made her draw back slightly, and her eager expression vanished. "Oh. Well, whatever. I thought you seemed nice."

"Dude, for real? You're weird as fuck. See you around." He turned and walked away, and didn't look back.

 

\---

 

Monday, seven o'clock. In the morning, but it felt more like the middle of the night. Jaime slapped the alarm on his clock and sat up. Pale light was showing around the edge of the curtains. Jaime sighed and rolled out of bed.

The days were getting shorter again. Summer was winding down, no matter how much he hated to see it end. He dragged a dirty t-shirt over his head and put on his running shorts. After shuffling down the hall to the bathroom for a quick piss, he laced up his sneakers and left the house. The front door banged behind him. He didn't bother locking it.

The air was clean and cool, almost cold, and damp. All along the street, the houses were still and dark. Jaime frowned at his phone as he scrolled through iTunes. Five percent battery. He thought he'd plugged it in last night. Maybe it would be enough to get him through this run.

His daily run usually took him on a circuitous tour of the student neighborhoods. Sometimes he liked to switch it up and go to the gym, but he really preferred being outside. The gym was for basketball and weight training. He needed to start the day with fresh air.

Ten minutes in, Jaime was at the corner of Nelson and State, sweating hard and trying to catch his breath. He'd seen a handful of other runners out and about. He was not expecting to glance across the intersection and see She-Hulk.

Her short blonde hair was drenched with sweat, and her ugly face was beet-red. It wasn't a good look for her. Her damp t-shirt clung to her as she moved. Jaime was surprised to see that despite her size, she wasn't fat. She was solid. Built like a tractor. Disproportionately small boobs, though. Christ, there were dudes with bigger tits.

She paused at the crosswalk and looked both ways. When she caught Jaime's glance, she scowled. He held her gaze for a moment and winked -- didn't want her to think she was intimidating or something -- before looking down at his phone. The battery was dead. No more music on this run.

He jogged across the street to join She-Hulk. "Nice morning, isn't it?" he said cheerfully. "I thought you would run earlier, when no one else is around to see you."

"Do me a favor and fuck off, would you?"

"Woah, language! I got sensitive ears. But I didn't just come over to hassle you. My phone just died and now I have nothing to listen to while I run. Mind if I run with you?"

"I like to run alone," she said tersely. She picked up the pace and jogged ahead.

He caught up with her, loping easily alongside. "Me too," said Jaime. "But if I don't have music to keep me motivated, I'll settle for a running partner. I bet I'm faster than you, but that's all right."

"No way!" she yelled.

Jaime laughed and ran a little faster, pulling slightly ahead of her. She was built, but he was confident that he was stronger and faster. Plus, she looked like she'd been running hard for a while. He had more energy and stamina. He would leave her behind.

That thought had barely entered his head when she charged past him. She was breathing hard, but steadily, and her legs pounded up and down like pistons in a V12 engine. Showboating. She wouldn't be able to keep up that pace. She just didn't like to be showed up. Jaime matched her speed, keeping slightly back and to the side. When she inevitably slowed down, he would speed past and leave her in the dust.

Except that she didn't slow down. Block after block, her pace didn't slack. Jaime shook sweat from his face and grimly kept up. With her build, he didn't expect her to be able to move so fast for such a long time. This was getting ridiculous.

At last she slowed down, in the 900 block of State Street. They were close to campus now. She-Hulk's face and neck glistened with sweat, and her t-shirt was soaked. Her shoulders heaved as she gasped for breath. Jaime tried to lean carelessly against a light pole, but his legs were weaker than cooked spaghetti. If there had been anything in his stomach, he probably would have thrown up. The girl caught her breath and checked her phone. Without saying anything, she strode away down Hamilton Street, towards the gym. "Wait!" Jaime demanded. She ignored him. He stumbled to catch up. "Hey, what time is it?" he called.

She sighed and looked at her phone. "It's seven-forty. Now will you go away and leave me alone?"

"You liked the competition. Don't lie," he said. She scoffed and shook her head. As she went to open the gym door, he called, "Hey, see you in art history, She-Hulk!"

She whipped around and got right up in his face. "My name is Brienne," she gritted out.

Jaime smirked. He leaned in a little closer to throw her off. "My mistake," he said in a low voice, still smiling. This close, he could see her freckles, and the fresh anger and disgust in her eyes. If it came to a fight, he guessed they'd be evenly matched. She was big, but he was quick, and vicious when he had to be. When he didn't back down, she turned away. The gym door slammed behind her. Jaime sauntered away, and when he was out of sight, he puked in a garbage can. His weak, shaky limbs made the walk home seem twice as long.

 

\---

Wednesday. End of September. Nine in the morning. Jaime got to poli-sci five minutes late, with coffee and a terrible hangover. That douchebag Hyle turned around and actually laughed at him. Jaime made a mental note to spill some hot coffee in that fucker's lap sometime.

He slouched down in his usual seat in the back. It was a small-ish class in a small-ish classroom, and it was always crowded. While Franklin droned about the USSR, Jaime pressed the polystyrene coffee cup against his face and swallowed back his nausea. When he opened his eyes, She-Hulk was folding herself into the seat next to his. Jaime glanced around the room -- sure enough, every other seat was taken. The girl looked annoyed. He returned her glare before closing his eyes again. What a bitch.

Last night had been intense. He didn't like to drink on weeknights, but a skype call home had made that thirty rack seem pretty inviting. He groaned softly and blindly pressed the lip of the cup to his mouth. The rich, bitter taste of coffee cut through his nausea.

"Are you okay?" someone muttered.

Jaime cracked an eye open. She-Hulk was looking at him with an expression of wary disgust. "I may throw up on you," he whispered. Her eyes widened in horror.

"And can anyone tell me how Stalin's consolidation of power affected the country? Brienne?"

She flinched when Franklin called her name, but answered without looking away from Jaime. "Um, the country grew from an agrarian economy to an industrial superpower, but millions of dissenters were deported or sent to labor camps."

"Good," said Franklin. "Mr. Hunt, can you expand upon Ms. Tarth's statements?"

That douchebag Hyle sat up straight and launched into his response. She-Hulk leaned as far away from Jaime as she could. "Maybe you should leave," she whispered.

"A truly brilliant suggestion. My god, how did it not occur to me? You should be in the president's cabinet," Jaime snarled under his breath. Her face flooded red with anger, but before she could snap back at him, he continued, saying, "Half the grade in this class comes from participation points. If I skip, my grade takes a hit."

"If you puke on me, I'll kill you," she whispered fiercely.

"Oh, please. Even with this hangover, I'd drop you like a ton of bricks."

"I'd like to see you try! I've been dealing with assholes like you all my life."

Franklin's voice cut into their argument. "Ms. Tarth, Mr. Lannister, perhaps you would care to share your conversation with the class? You seem to have a great deal to say on the topic of communism."

"Actually, Dr. Franklin, I was just asking Brienne here if she would walk me to Health Services," said Jaime quickly. "I think I'm going to be sick and I don't know if I can make it there on my own. And she's so huge, she'd probably be able to carry me if I pass out."

She-Hulk's face was scarlet with mingled embarrassment and fury. Franklin hurriedly said, "By all means, Jaime, by all means, you are excused. I hope you feel better soon. The homework's on the website, and don't forget that the midterm is in three weeks."

"Thanks, Dr. Franklin," Jaime said, with as charming a smile as he could manage. "Come on," he whispered to the girl. They exited the classroom as quickly as possible, while Franklin moved on with the discussion. Jaime could feel everyone's eyes on him as he left. That douchebag Hyle was probably furious. Good.

Out in the quiet, dim hall, he slumped against the wall and took a deep breath. "I am definitely going to throw up. Do me a favor and grab that waste basket, would you?"

She glared at him. "I'm not doing you any favors, you asshole."

"Fine, then do the janitors a favor and grab me that waste basket before I puke on the floor."

That seemed to persuade her. She reluctantly picked up the little plastic bin and shoved it roughly into his hands. "Why thank you, my good lady," he said with a smirk. "I believe I am ready to begin my journey to Health Services. Would you care to accompany me?"

"Fuck off." She stormed away with stiff shoulders and clenched fists.

"See you in art history tomorrow," he called as she left. When he threw up, coffee came out his nose.

 

\---

 

Thursday. Mid-October. Clouds roiled across the sky, heavy with rain, and partway through art history it started to pour. Walker barely noticed, but half the class started muttering unhappily with each other. Jaime was in his usual seat at the back, with a good view out the windows. He watched a gaggle of sorority girls hurry past in matching rainboots and polka-dot umbrellas. The rain didn't let up for the entire hour and twenty minute lecture.

When class was over, everyone left in a flurry of rain coats and umbrellas. Those who were unprepared for the weather were forced to dash across campus, arriving at their destinations drenched and breathless. Jaime stayed behind in the entryway of Bernard Hall, waiting for the rain to stop. He didn't mind getting wet, but he had nowhere to be, so there was no reason to hurry.

"No umbrella, son?" asked Walker. He had paused in the doorway to unfurl his own umbrella, which was large enough to shelter three people.

"Nah, but I'll remember next time."

"Hmm. You should remember to study for the midterm while you're at it."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks." He watched Walker stride purposefully over to Wilson Hall. The sky seemed a little lighter. Maybe the rain would let up soon.

"What are you doing here?!" someone exclaimed.

Jaime glanced up at She-Hulk, who was standing at the top of the stairs with a look of exasperation on her face. "Maybe you've forgotten, but the art history lecture that we're both in has just ended."

"Well, why are you hanging around?" She came down the stairs slowly, never taking her eyes off him. Her damp shoes squeaked on the linoleum.

He sighed. "I forgot to bring an umbrella."

"Oh." She sat down on the bench opposite him. He glanced at her when she wasn't looking; her hair was stringy from the humidity, but she was wearing that blue cardigan again, and it made her eyes seem even bluer.

"Have you started studying for the midterm yet?" Jaime asked idly. If they were both going to sit here, they might as well talk.

"Of course. It's next week. I've been studying for days. Haven't you?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "Oh yeah, of course. I spend hours lost in daydreams of early Byzantine architecture."

A hurt expression crossed her face, so briefly he almost missed it, and was replaced by a look of practiced indifference. "Well, the midterm is worth a third of the final grade for this class. I don't want to take any chances."

"Yes, you're very careful, aren't you, She-Hulk?" he said carelessly. "I expect you have to work pretty hard to pass most your classes."

Color rose in her cheeks. Interesting, how easily she blushed. Her hands tightened into fists, but she kept her tone neutral when she said, "Actually, I'm on a full-ride academic scholarship. I've had a 4.0 GPA for the past two years."

"Impressive. If it were anyone else, I'd wonder if you'd slept with some professors to get those grades, but...well, I think most of our professors have higher standards than that."

Her face was beet-red now, and those intensely blue eyes were glossy with tears. "Whatever," she muttered, and hurried out into the rain. Jaime watched her walk across the quad, her head bowed against the rain, and felt a twinge of regret.

 

\---

 

Three days later, Jaime was in the library, with the art history text and laptop open in front of him. The tables around him were mostly empty; it was a Sunday, after all, and most people were probably studying at home. He did better in the library. Fewer distractions. The poli-sci midterm would be super easy (essay questions were his forte), and the rest of his classes had projects instead of exams. The trouble lay in art history. His notebook was all but empty, and the lectures weren't posted online. How had he failed to realize that? Now he had two very busy days in which to read the first half of a very boring textbook. From there, he could probably bullshit a lot of the longer questions and make educated guesses for the multiple choice. Jaime idly cracked his knuckles and flipped to the section on Sumerian idols.

After a while he became aware of laughter and voices. He glanced around and spotted that douchebag Hyle Hunt, along with a gaggle of his bros, clustered at a table not far away. "Fuckin' frat boys," Jaime muttered as he went back to the text. This was supposed to be a quiet study area.

"Hey, gorgeous!" one of the bros called out. Jaime looked up in time to see She-Hulk blush and awkwardly stumble over a chair that hadn't been pushed in. She didn't answer, just slid into a seat a few tables away. The bro persisted, saying, "Hey, you should sit with us."

"I really prefer to study alone," She-Hulk said.

Hyle wandered over to her table and sat down. "What midterms do you have?" he asked. He sounded almost friendly.

"Uh. Art history, poli-sci, American lit...," she said, trailing off.

"You know, I heard you TA a mixed martial arts class, is that true? It sounds amazing." Hyle leaned forward. Jaime couldn't concentrate on his text; something was brewing here.

Brienne stammered, "Uh, y-yeah, it's...pretty cool."

Hyle chuckled warmly. "That's awesome. You know, you should cut loose and have some fun after midterms. I never see you at parties or anything. We're having a party next weekend. You should totally come."

She was blushing now -- truly amazing, Jaime thought to himself, how easily she blushed -- and staring down at her stack of study materials. It was clear that she wasn't sure what to think. But Jaime was pretty sure he knew what was going on. He was on his feet without another thought, and he nonchalantly made his way over to her table. "Hey, Hyle. Fucked any high schoolers lately? I heard about that fifteen-year-old, man, you must be so proud of that. Brienne, can I talk to you for a hot second?" He pulled her chair out for her. "Alone? Bring your books."

That douchebag Hyle looked like he was ready to leap across the table and go for Jaime's throat, but he mastered the urge with obvious difficulty. Brienne slowly followed Jaime back to his table. When he sat down, she remained standing, clearly suspicious and confused. "Don't hang around with Hyle Hunt," Jaime said in a low voice. He looked past her to the cluster of frat boys. They were glaring at him.

"What does it matter to you who I hang out with?" she whispered angrily. "He was being nice."

"He wasn't being nice, he was taking the piss," Jaime interrupted. "He's a first-class douchebag, I swear to God. He'll invite you to his little party, they'll get you drunk, and you'll get passed around like a bottle of cheap bourbon." She looked startled -- horrified -- but he quickly went on. "He's pretending to be nice because he's a miserable fucker who wants to hurt you. And then he and his buddies will laugh about it, because it's a game to them."

She sat down across from him. Her eyes were bright with tears, and she looked miserable. "Even when people are nice, they're not actually nice. I should've realized."

"Yes, but thankfully there are people like me in the world."

"What, people who are openly cruel, without playing games?" she shot back.

"Exactly." He gave her his most charming smile and shook back his hair.

She looked disconcerted, then smiled hesitantly. "Well, thanks for letting me know. I thought it seemed too good to be true," she said.

"Well, you can't be too careful around these college guys. They all just want to take advantage of sweet, naive, young girls like you." She looked suspicious, but he just smiled again and added, "Speaking of taking advantage of, can I borrow your art history notes? Mine are...well, lacking in detail."

"I guess I owe you one," she said grudgingly, after a moment.

"That is so gracious. Would you feel better if I was nicer about it? Prithee, sweet maiden, grant me the favor of sharing your art history notes, for mine GPA can't withstand a failing grade in this class."

A real smile -- an actual, genuine smile -- flitted across her face. It made her eyes crinkle up at the corners. He realized that he had never actually seen her smile like that. "Well, for the sake of your GPA, I guess it would be okay." She slid her binder across the table to him. "I hear Walker's exams are really hard."

"Hermione Granger, you are a lifesaver," Jaime said. He flipped through her notes. "You have terrible handwriting."

"I sprained my wrist at the beginning of the semester."

"Was that in your mixed martial arts class?"

She hesitated, then said, "Uh, yeah."

"Are you really a TA? Isn't it hard?"

"I always find ways to challenge myself. I've been learning since I was little. My dad was a heavyweight boxing champ."

"I guess you take after him, huh?" She didn't respond, and he looked up in time to see that familiar wounded expression. "It was a compliment! You're probably really strong."

"And not very girly. I get it, okay? Stop trying so hard to be nice. You suck at it." She opened her art history text and put her chin in her hand, staring down at the chapter on cave paintings.

Jaime sighed and shook his head. "All right. Whatever." They sat in silence for a long while. Hyle Hunt and his bros left, giving Jaime a parting glare as they went. He was glad to see them go. Being a gigantic dick to someone was one thing, but their idea of fun left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Hey, uh, Jaime?"

He looked up when she spoke. "What's up?"

"Um, do you want to go running tomorrow morning?" she asked quietly, eyes on her text.

He stared at her. "What?"

She glanced up at him, a quick look before returning to prehistoric cave art. "I don't know, I just figured we might as well run together. You're pretty slow, but I like having a running buddy."

Jaime laughed. "I'm the slow one? Not hardly. I could beat you hollow any day, dude."

"Not a chance," she said seriously. Confidently. That threw him for a second, and he chuckled, shaking his head. She frowned and said, "I work out every day. I run five miles every morning, then I go to the gym to lift, and I practice martial arts every night. I'll win. I always win."

"Well, this time you're going to lose," said Jaime cheerfully. "Because I also always win."

Her expression clearly said that she'd heard that before.

 

\---

 

Monday. Ten after seven in the morning. Jaime yawned and zipped his jacket right up to his chin. They'd agreed to meet outside her house on James Street -- he'd been surprised to learn that she only lived two blocks away from him. He bounced on the balls of his feet and twisted a few times to loosen up his back. When she came out, she wore a long-sleeve shirt and had leggings under her shorts. "Are you just so huge that the cold doesn't affect you?" he asked.

She gave him a withering look and bent to stretch her hamstrings. "At least I'm not a wimp like you."

"Sweat pants are the latest fashion."

She snorted. "Let's just get this over with so I can get on with my workout."

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

"I'm sick of having to prove myself," she said bluntly. "Every dumb jock at the gym thinks he can beat me. I just want to do my own thing, but everyone thinks I'm this freak, and they all feel threatened so they have to test themselves against me. And I always win, but it's still just...really humiliating."

"Well, to be fair, you are kind of a freak."

She gave him a look of mingled anger and hurt. "You know what? Go fuck yourself, Jaime Lannister. I'm not helping you with anything ever again." She jogged away, hands clenched into fists.

"Hey, wait! Come on, man, I was just kidding!" He hurried to catch up. "Seriously, I was just kidding! I'm sorry."

She just shook her head. "Whatever."

He jogged alongside for a little while, keeping his words to himself. She still looked frustrated. "Race you to the gym," he said finally. When she glared at him, he said, "Oh, please. You can act all annoyed, like this is some big chore, but you're just as competitive as I am. You know you want to prove me wrong."

"Shut up, Jaime."

"Make me, She-Hulk," he said, with a burst of laughter. He pulled ahead, loving the sound of his sneakers pounding the sidewalk, the burn of his lungs and the ache in his muscles. It was a mistake. As they ran north along Hamilton Street, she kept up with him; when they got within three blocks of the gym, she upped the pace and took the lead. Jaime couldn't overtake her again. He'd spent too much energy on his early lead. She was five, maybe six feet ahead of him when they reached the gym.

For a while, neither of them could speak. Jaime leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. This is what fish felt like on the hook. His head was aching fit to burst, and his arms were weirdly numb, but he could feel his pulse pounding like a good bassline. She-Hulk, Brienne, she was standing with her feet apart, hands on her hips, dragging in breath after ragged breath as fast as her lungs could manage it. She recovered first and wiped her sweaty face on her shirt. "Told you," she said after a moment.

"Fuck off," he said, and when she gave him a swift look, he laughed. "Kidding. Really doesn't bother me. You really are the She-Hulk, aren't you?"

"Don't call me that," she said fiercely, and just like their first run together, she got up in his face to reinforce the point. "My name's Brienne, so either call me that or don't talk to me anymore."

"Wow, okay. Calm down." He put his hands up in a placating gesture. She moved a few paces away, and he grinned and added, "She-Hulk."

Brienne had him pinned to the wall before he knew what was happening. Her body was pressed heavily against his, and her fingers were digging hard into his shoulders. For whatever reason, he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. Those perfect, blue eyes were wide with fury and adrenaline. Every ragged breath he drew filled his lungs with the smell of her toothpaste and sweat. They spent a long moment like that.

"Gonna teach me a lesson, Tarth?" Jaime finally murmured. "I don't normally fight girls, but you seem like you're ready to go a few rounds."

He could almost track her pulse by the vein in her temple, but he was distracted by the way she was still pressed up against him. It was...strangely enjoyable. Oh, for fuck's sake. Blame it on the endorphins, and the fact that he'd been practically celibate since August. She was not attractive -- dank with sweat, red in the face, with that painfully ugly face and a personality to match. Then why did he have the urge to put his hands on her waist, and let his lips find hers?

"Trust me, Lannister, I'd have you on your back before you knew what hit you," she hissed, and it took him a second to realize that she was referring to a fight.

He winked and offered up his most charming smile. "Well, I think you're all talk and no action, She-Hulk. You said you're tired of proving yourself, so why don't we just go our separate ways? You're pretty confident in yourself, right? So you don't need to prove it by beating my perfect ass into the gym mats."

Brienne scowled and let him go, backing up, her expression suspicious. "This is a trick."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, wow, the trick of reverse psychology. Are you really this easy to manipulate? If you ever met my family they'd make your head spin."

"Why do I hang out with you?" she muttered, shaking her head.

"Because of my Prince Charming good looks, obviously. I'm handsome enough for both of us." That made her roll her eyes, but the corner of her mouth was turned up in a slight smile. While she wasn't looking, Jaime took the opportunity to adjust his junk. Still weirdly half-hard. He chose not to think about that. "Well, as long as we're here, and jacked up on hormones and adrenaline, why don't you show me what you've got?"

"What do you mean?" She was hesitant again. Jaime wondered how long it had taken her to learn this wariness -- to learn to second-guess everything that was said to her, for fear of cruel jokes and barbed comments.

"Brienne," he said patiently. "You're a mixed martial artist. I'm a jackass who needs to be taught a lesson. Fight me."

She studied him for a long moment. He waited. Finally she gave a short nod and wiped her sweaty face again. "All right. Come on. Small Gym C is usually free."

Jaime followed her into the gym. After signing in at the main desk, they went down a narrow hallway past a series of double doors. When they reached Small Gym C, Brienne held the door open for him, and he followed her in. They were alone. There were mirrors along the far wall, and the floor was covered in mats. "All right," he said after a moment. They were alone. Alone. It was very quiet in Small Gym C. "How do you want to do this?"

"Shoes off," she said briskly, kicking off her sneakers. He followed suit. She padded into the middle of the room and rolled her shoulders a few times. Jaime realized that she seemed...comfortable. Perhaps for the Tarth girl, this was a safe space. Her natural habitat, where she felt strongest. She was in charge here. He joined her in the middle of the quiet room.

"Are you warmed up? Muscles loose?" asked Brienne.

He stretched langorously and smiled widely. "Hit me with your best shot, babe."

She stared at him for a moment, clearly thrown off by the pet name. When she moved in closer, it was his turn to be disconcerted. Her expression was businesslike, but there was intensity in her eyes. He shifted his stance and raised his hands defensively.

It was a good fight. It started slowly, with a few light, testing blows on both sides. She was strong, as he'd expected. Good balance. He had taken karate classes as a kid, and eventually developed a passion for fencing and boxing, but Brienne had been focused on this kind of fighting since she was little. They were pretty evenly matched. Jaime wasn't really surprised, but it was annoying. He was used to being the best without having to try his hardest. Brienne was forcing him to try his hardest.

So Jaime fell back on some less-than-respectable tactics. "When this is over, do you want to grab coffee and do some art history review?" he asked. She ignored him. When she went to sweep his legs out from under him, he darted back and said, "You're very graceful when you fight."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." She blocked his punch and nailed him in the ribs, briefly driving the wind out of him.

He kicked at her knee. She blocked that as well, and Jaime grunted, "I mean it. The way you move, it's fluid. Fast." She attacked with a flurry of punches and a high kick. He ducked and moved back, but she kept coming on, and in one swift move she had him on the mats. It was a very effective move. He caught her eye and grinned, saying, "Oh, honey, I love it when you're rough."

It worked. Confusion filled her face, and she inadvertantly relaxed her hold. He hooked a leg over her hip and rolled, pinning her under him. Brienne looked angry now, realizing that he'd tricked her. She arched up, heaving against him, and managed to flip him on his back. He lay flat on the mats and panted for breath while she straddled him. This time it was harder to think of a cheeky remark. Harder in more ways than one. There was something very wrong with how aroused he was. "All right, I give up," he finally said. "You win. I'll just lie here, wallowing. At least until I catch my breath."

She shook her head and laughed shortly. "Told you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Get off me before you realize that I have the world's most awkward boner. "Get off. I need to get a drink." She obliged, and he dragged himself out into the hallway to find a water fountain.

 

\---

 

Tuesday. Four o'clock. Another rainy, shitty day. Jaime sat in the entryway of Bernard and watched the last of his art history classmates leave the lecture hall. Brienne was the very last, and she was talking to Walker as she came out. She came up short when she spotted Jaime sitting on the bench by the doorway.

As ever, she seemed to view him with mingled distrust and dislike, although this time her misgivings were tempered by a wary friendliness. "How do you think you did?" she asked, taking a seat on the opposite bench.

He shrugged. "If I passed, it's only thanks to you."

Her eyebrows arched swiftly upward in disbelief, but she only said, "Well, I couldn't just let you fail."

"Yeah, you could," he said frankly. "I was a giant dick to you. And some of my friends were jerks, too. But you still helped me."

Brienne shrugged uncomfortably. "I knew I could help you. My conscience wouldn't let me abandon you to a shitty GPA." She attempted a smile.

"A fate worse than death," he solemnly agreed. That brought a real smile to her face. "What are you up to now?" he went on.

"Uh, not much. I should probably do a load of laundry and look over my poli-sci notes."

"All work and no play! How do you live with yourself?" Jaime shook his head in mock disapproval. "Come on, you just finished an important exam. Celebrate."

"Let me guess. Finnegan's."

"Um, duh." He stood, taking a moment for a huge stretch. "Let's go. Chop chop. I'm buying."

She followed him out of Bernard, saying, "I'll buy my own drinks. And I really don't feel like going to Finnegan's, frankly."

"Right, yeah, laundry day. Well, do you want to study for poli-sci later?" When she hesitated, he turned to face her. "Well?"

Brienne didn't meet his eyes. "I don't think so. I really prefer to study alone."

"Oh. Okay," he said quickly. "Well, if you change your mind, hit me up. What's your number?" She looked bewildered, so he said, very slowly and loudly, "Phone. Number. Wake up, Tarth. Ten simple numbers, no math involved."

She flushed and gave him a dirty look before supplying her phone number. His fingers flew across his phone's keyboard, and a moment later her phone chimed. She looked at it automatically. When she read his text, she glared at him. " _'Call me maybe'_? What is wrong with you?"

"Oh, a great deal," he deadpanned. "Let me know if you want to study. It's way more effective when you've got someone else to bounce ideas off of. In the meantime, I'll be at Finnegan's." And he strode off without looking back.

 

\---

 

It was a quarter past seven when Brienne texted him. He was lying in bed with his poli-sci notes and a grilled cheese. Did he want to get together to study? "I'm in bed with a hot sandwich. The only way this is happening is if you come here," he muttered as he texted her back. Risky, but not overly demanding. There was a good chance she would agree.

It took her a long time to respond. _Fine. Where's your house?_

_325 Pond._

When his phone buzzed against his chest a moment later, he grinned at her response. _I'll be there in a few. Have a sandwich waiting._ Jaime set his phone on the nightstand. "Someone's feeling bold," he said to his grilled cheese. When the doorbell rang ten minutes later, he ran downstairs to answer it.

 

\---

 

Friday. Early November. Franklin was passing out grading rubrics to go with the project outline, and distilled dread was in the air. Group project, it said at the top of the sheet. Jaime was all too familiar with the pitfalls of group work. There were only two possible positive outcomes -- one, if he was assigned to a group of hard workers and intelligent thinkers; or two, if they were allowed to choose their group members.

"You'll be working in pairs for this assignment," said Franklin blandly. Jaime watched that douchebag Hyle lean forward eagerly. Of course that asshole would be excited. "So pick a partner, and please, choose someone you think you can work well with," Franklin added over the sudden hubbub, "not just one of your friends. Thank you, yes, go ahead now."

Hyle turned quickly in his seat, but Jaime was already leaning over to Brienne. "Do you want to work together?"

"Uh, sure," she said, with a small, surprised smile. That douchebag Hyle rolled his eyes and turned away. Jaime grinned. _Nice try, asshole._

"Awesome. Want to meet up this weekend to get started?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." She seemed genuinely pleased.

"Sweet," he said, stifling a yawn. "I just bagged the smartest person in the class. You won't need me to do any of the actual work, will you?" Brienne looked shocked, so he added, "Kidding. Just kidding, I swear."

"Oh, okay." She grinned down at her binder and shrugged. "Sorry."

"Relax, dude. You're allowed to joke around with your friends," said Jaime. She didn't say anything, and when he looked at her, she had a strange expression. "What's that look for? Paper cut? Or are you trying to come up with a secret handshake for our group?"

"No, it's nothing," she said quickly.

He let the subject drop, but as they listened to Franklin explain the assignment, Jaime's mind was elsewhere.

 

\---

 

Saturday. Ten in the morning. Jaime studied the list of drinks painted on the wall of the coffee shop. It was weird how his heart seemed to be beating slightly faster than normal. What was that all about? He finally ordered a latte and claimed a table near the back, in a corner. Two minutes later, Brienne texted to say she was on her way.

Jaime opened his laptop and set it on top of his poli-sci book. This project would be interesting -- a lot of research and a lot of analysis and critical thinking -- but he was looking forward to it. Brienne had the most ridiculously naive worldview. He anticipated a lot of spirited discussions.

Their inaugural group meeting did not disappoint. After some preliminary background research, he made a casual remark and she pounced on it. "Are you insane? I can't believe how heartless that is!" she said.

"One person's idea of 'heartless' is another person's capitalistic economy," he snapped. "It's how our country functions. Do you think we got to be a dominant world power by holding hands and giving out free lunches?"

As the debate proceeded, her face became completely red. As much as Jaime scorned her inclination to tenderheartedness, he had to admire her conviction and passion. "So basically we should, like, give everything away for free? Is that what you're saying?"

"You're twisting my words, you ass," she retorted.

He held up his hands. "All right. All right. Let's just get on with the research and save the bleeding hearts for later."

"It's called having a moral conscience!"

From there, things seemed to go awry. Brienne became surly and gave terse replies whenever he said anything. He studied her as she sipped her tea and scrolled through online databases. "Are you okay? You seem angry," he said eventually.

"I'm fine," she snarled.

"Are you sure? Because if you squeeze that mug any harder, it's going to break. Don't think you want tea in your keyboard."

Brienne glared at him, then said, "I think we're done here." She slammed her laptop shut and shoved it into her bag, and was out the door before he could think of anything to say.

 

\---

_Are you mad at me?_

No response.

He made a grilled cheese and sat on the couch to eat it. Brad was playing Call of Duty on the Xbox. Liam was probably at his girlfriend's house.

_Is it because I initiated a thought-provoking and spirited debate on the merits of capitalism?_

No response, but that was probably it. His family was given to in-depth discussions and polarizing moral and political views. Brienne held very strongly to her convictions. It was interesting to him that someone who had clearly endured a lifetime of bullying and cruelty could be so unswervingly kind and generous at heart.

_Will you forgive me if I make you a grilled cheese? We can play Xbox if you want._

He had never had to beg for forgiveness before. He'd always taken it for granted. The people he really cared about never stayed mad at him for long -- they were family, so there was an implied obligation to absolve each other eventually -- and the people who stayed angry generally weren't worth his friendship.

_Please?_

 

\---

 

Eight PM. Brad and Liam were both out. Jaime was making friends with a bottle of Jim Beam. "Let's par-tay," he muttered, scrolling through PornHub. His phone buzzed, but it was a call from home, so he let it go to voicemail. A minute later, it buzzed again -- once, twice -- only a text, then, and not a call. Probably his father. Joy of joys. He left his phone on his desk and wandered into the kitchen for a snack. He took the bottle with him.

Some time later, he was pensively eating an entire loaf of bread, slice by slice, when the doorbell rang. "Go away!" he called down the stairs. It rang again. If he ignored it, it would stop eventually.

He had finished half the loaf when there were footsteps on the stairs, and Brienne appeared in the doorway. Her hair was damp, and she looked annoyed. And slightly worried. She paused, and they stared at each other for a moment. Jaime slowly put another slice of bread in his mouth and chewed, maintaining eye contact. "Hey," he said. His voice was muffled by bread.

"This place smells like a distillery," said Brienne.

He held up the bottle of whiskey. "That's because I'm drinking heavily."

"I see," she muttered. She leaned against the door frame and gave him a look of pity and disgust. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's a Saturday night and I'm in college," he said. "What the hell else am I supposed to do?"

"Wow, you are actually an even bigger dumbass than I thought," Brienne said. She sat down at the table. "Give me that. Come on." She grabbed the bottle and took a long drink.

"Hey, I put my mouth on that," Jaime said belatedly.

Brienne shrugged. "Whatever."

He laughed and said, "Well, you're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I drink," she said defensively. "This stuff tastes like paint thinner, but I've definitely had worse."

"Fair enough. What are you doing here?" He stuffed another slice of bread in his mouth. "And how'd you get in?"

"Your door was unlocked. You should probably think about locking it sometimes." When he shrugged, she rolled her eyes and continued. "You didn't answer my texts, and when I called, it went to voicemail."

"What? When?" Jaime demanded through his mouthful of bread. Chewing was clumsy work.

"Like, an hour ago. Forty-five minutes. Are you...I mean, are you mad at me?" She didn't meet his eyes when she asked.

He thoughtfully ate another slice of bread and mumbled, "I thought you were mad at me. Because we argued about capitalism. And then you ignored my texts."

"I left my phone in my gym locker. I didn't find it until tonight."

"That's convenient."

"It's the truth!" she protested.

Jaime sighed. "Listen. If you don't want to hang out anymore, that's fine. Whatever. I tend to alienate people. Let's just get this stupid project over with as soon as possible--"

"Shut up," she interrupted. "You ass." Brienne scooted her chair around the table until they were sitting next to each other. "Give me some of that bread. I'm fucking starving."

"Do you want a grilled cheese?"

"Yes, please. That would be amazing."

He got to his feet very carefully, saying, "I can do that. I can cook that."

Brienne eyed him critically. "Actually, maybe I should do it. You're tanked."

Jaime shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. "I am only moderately buzzed. A little tipsy," he clarified. "I perfectly...am capable of grilling a cheese."

"Oh, you perfectly are, are you?" That seemed to amuse her for some reason. He found a package of cheese in the fridge and set to work unwrapping the correct number of individual slices.

"How many grilled cheeses d'you want? I've got...some bread. Not much."

"One is fine," Brienne said. She draped her coat across the back of her chair and started buttering slices of bread. "Was that bottle full when you started?"

"Almost. Go sit down, this is my task, okay? It is my task, not yours."

"No, you sit down." She took the cheese away -- he had unwrapped ten slices, which was probably not going to be enough -- and put her hands on his shoulders. "Here. Sit down, you ass." She guided him back to his chair, then resumed construction of the sandwich.

He watched as she laid two slices of cheese between the bread and put them in the pan. As she fiddled with the burner, he ate three of the extra pieces of cheese and took another swig of Jim. "Please drink some water," Brienne said, her expression pained.

"You drink some water," he muttered.

"I'm going to. And you should too." She poured two glasses and set one in front of him, and removed the bottle of whiskey. "This is mine, for the time being."

"You're wearing that sweater," he suddenly realized. "The blue one."

Brienne glanced down. "Um...yes?"

"I like it."

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. "Thanks." When the grilled cheese was ready, she cut it in half and gave him a piece. "Here. Drunk people are supposed to love this kind of thing, right?"

"I'm not drunk!" he said loudly, and took a huge bite of the sandwich.

"Right. Well, now that I know you're alive and not giving me the cold shoulder, I'm going home."

"No, you should stay. Come on. Do you like Xbox? We could play Halo."

Brienne shook her head and said, "Nah, video games aren't really my thing."

"Well, we could watch TV."

"Jaime, I'm tired. I am going home to take a shower and curl up with my comparative lit homework."

"Lame," he scoffed. "You should just stay here."

She laughed. "That's ridiculous. I've got to go home eventually."

"Mm, no you don't. Come on, let's go watch Discovery Channel."

"You're an ass." Brienne got up and put the dirty dishes in the sink. She hefted the bottle of Jim Beam. "Please don't drink any more tonight."

Jaime reclaimed the bottle and leaned against the counter next to her. "What if I do?" he murmured, raising the whiskey to his lips.

"Stop it," she said firmly. She pulled the bottle out of his grasp and put the cap back on.

"Give that back."

"No way. You're drunk. I'm doing you a favor."

He tried to grab the bottle, but she held it out of his reach. "Give it back, Brienne!"

Her expression was pained. "Or what?"

"Hmm, that's a good question." Jaime strained to reach the bottle. This was ridiculous. She wasn't that much taller than him. "What if I do this?" he said, and he stood very close to her. Just stood there, in her personal space. Brienne Tarth might be tough and strong, but she was shy, and he would bet his trust fund that she was completely inexperienced. For a moment she looked slightly uncertain. He put his hands on the counter on either side of her. "What now, Brienne?" Jaime murmured. They were about the same height -- his hips and shoulders lined up with hers, and he didn't have to look down into her eyes. They really were astonishingly blue.

"Now I think it would be a good idea for me to leave," she said nervously. He was pleased to see that her cheeks were were starting to flush. She nudged his hand aside and edged away.

He followed her, grinning. "Am I making you uncomfortable? Does it feel weird to be this close to a man when you're not fighting him?"

"Shut up, you ass," Brienne snapped.

"You're blushing. Did I hit a nerve?"

"I'm going to hit some of your nerves if you don't shut up," she said.

Jaime followed her to the kitchen door, where she was apparently too flustered to open it. "Need a hand?"

"I can do it on my own!"

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Well, excuse me, She-Hulk, but it opens inwards, so you might want to stop pushing on it."

She whirled around to glare at him, and he was startled to see tears in her eyes. "Never call me that again, Jaime Lannister. I can't believe I thought we were friends. You're an awful human being."

"Brienne, I was just--I was kidding! Wait, come back! I'm sorry!" He stumbled down the stairs in her wake. She slammed his front door, but he hauled it open and followed her out into the night. It was drizzling, and the cold hit him like a slap in the face. "Jesus Christ! You forgot your coat! Please, let me just get you your coat, okay?"

That made her pause, and she lingered reluctantly on his steps. "All right," she said after a moment. She didn't look at him.

Jaime dashed back upstairs. In his haste, he slammed his hip into the railing, and on his way back down, lost his balance and tripped down the last four stairs. "Here! I've got it," he gasped, limping across the porch. He held her coat out like a peace offering. "Sorry it took so long."

Brienne snatched the coat away and pulled it on. She hurried down the front walk and began to walk briskly away.

"Wait!" he called, stumbling in her wake. "I'm sorry. That was a dick thing to say. I'm sorry. I promise I will never say it again. Please?"

"Leave me alone," she growled.

Jaime jogged along, struggling to keep his balance. It was disturbingly cold out. His feet were almost numb already. "Brienne, please, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Why should I? So that you can forget all about it, and call me names next time you see me?"

"I promise I'll never call you names again."

She stopped and turned to glare at him. They were at the end of the block. The glow of the streetlights cast dramatic shadows across her face, but he could still catch the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. He moved a little closer, with an involuntary shiver. "I'm...I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I was an asshole earlier, and I'm sorry I called you names."

Brienne shook her head. "I can't...I just can't let it go that easily. I'm sick of being treated like a joke or a caricature."

"I don't see you that way."

She studied his face for a long time. He shivered again, and she frowned. "You're barefoot. What the hell is wrong with you?"

He grinned. "My good buddy Jim is keeping me nice and warm."

"Here." She shrugged out of her coat and draped it around his shoulders.

"What? No way." He took it off and tried to give it back.

"What, would this overturn your precious gender roles?"

"No, I just don't want you to get cold."

"Put the coat on, you ass. You're going to freeze to death," Brienne insisted.

"I'm half a block from my house. I'll only freeze to death if someone locks me out."

She wrapped the coat around him and buttoned it, pinning his arms to his sides. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you love me." Even in the dim light of the street lamps, he noticed the way her face reddened at his offhand remark. "You do! You like me! Tarth, you've got a crush on me, you big softie!"

"Of course I don't!" she snapped.

"You like me! Don't deny it!" Jaime followed her as she started to hurry away. "Wait! I'm not done teasing you yet!" It was next to impossible to keep up with her; she was moving fast, and she was sober, and wearing shoes, and he was still wearing her coat straitjacket-style. "Do you want to get together tomorrow to work on the poli-sci project?" he called after her.

Brienne paused, then hurried onward, yelling over her shoulder, "I'll meet you in the library at ten. Third floor study area."

He grinned and ran all the way back to his house.

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back, I'm afraid I stole the line "grill me a cheese" from Archer, and I spotted another line that almost definitely came from the 2009 Star Trek reboot. Shame on me. But I felt like a modern AU wouldn't be complete without pop culture references. And Brienne does have a bit in common with Hermione Granger.
> 
> As it stands, this is just a one-shot, but I'm considering writing more. I had originally intended to continue, but lost the thread of it when other obligations came up. Comments and critique are more than welcome!
> 
> (I'm really sorry about the uninspired title and terrible summary. It's very late at night.)


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